


All Eyes On Me

by anaeifly



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Aziraphale is "just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing" (Good Omens), Crowley is a Mess (Good Omens), M/M, Wall Slam, sensual chocolate cake, why are you looking at me like that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:28:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23833882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anaeifly/pseuds/anaeifly
Summary: Aziraphale finally asks Crowley why he’s always looking at him like THAT. (You all know what I mean.) Awkwardness (on Crowley’s part) and kissing ensue.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 19
Kudos: 177
Collections: Week 11: Why are you looking at me like that?





	All Eyes On Me

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y’all! So this is a prompt fill for a prompt on the GO AO3 fb group: why are you looking at me like that? I actually had a ton of fun writing this. It just sort of flowed out of me, for the most part. Plus this is the most I’ve written since quarantine started, so that’s nice. Anyway, I hope reading it makes you guys as happy as writing it made me. I’m considering writing a second, smutty chapter possibly involving snake Crowley, but I haven’t decided yet. Lmk what you think. Enjoy! ~ana

“My dear, why are you looking at me like that?”

Aziraphale’s voice, though low and mild, startled Crowley badly enough that he dropped his fork—not that he’d been making much use of it anyway. They had gone to the Ritz for lunch, and Crowley had, admittedly, been watching the angel enjoy his dessert—a dark chocolate cake dripping with rich frosting that even Crowley had to admit looked delicious—captivated by Aziraphale’s little sighs and moans ( _moans_! Satan help him) of delight. He’d thought his sunglasses hid his scrutiny, but apparently not. Or at least not enough. 

To delay answering, Crowley quickly broke eye contact and leaned to retrieve his fork—or he would have, if he hadn’t immediately knocked over his water glass when he turned. Aziraphale raised his eyebrows, and Crowley could practically _hear_ the “What on earth is the matter with you, dear boy?” Face burning, he fired off a quick miracle to fix the water glass situation before anyone else could notice, grabbed his fork, and settled back in his chair, fighting the urge to slide down into it as far as he could. 

It wasn’t until then that he finally met Aziraphale’s gaze again and realized that the angel was still awaiting an answer. Crowley swallowed, trying to ignore his racing pulse, which would almost certainly have been alarmingly high had he been human. “M’not,” he said, after a long pause. “I mean—I’m, I’m,” he said, gesturing a bit wildly, fully aware that he was clearly losing his mind. He shook his head a little, hoping to clear it, and it sort of worked, surprisingly. “I’m not looking at you any special way, angel. I’m just looking at you the way I always do.”

Aziraphale, unfortunately, looked entirely unconvinced. “That’s true,” he said evenly, “but it doesn’t answer my question.” 

Crowley felt like he might be having a heart attack. Or maybe a stroke. “I—” he started, before realizing he had no clue what to say. He clamped his mouth shut with an audible snap. 

Thankfully (and also _not_ ), Aziraphale apparently had more to say and didn’t seem perturbed by Crowley’s lack of response. Yet, anyway. “You’re always looking at me as if...as if you’d like to wrap yourself around me. Or eat me. Or...possibly both.”

Crowley’s face was almost certainly on fire, and he’d stopped breathing while Aziraphale was speaking and couldn’t quite remember how to start again. Thank someone he didn’t actually need air to survive. 

He opened his mouth, half hoping a coherent response would just come out, and was startled by the relief he felt at the influx of air. “Well, there you go then,” he forced out. His voice sounded a bit strangled even to him. He made himself breathe in again. Better. “Answered your own question. Clever angel.” By the time he finished speaking, Crowley’s brain had finally caught up, and he was starting to feel a bit more in control. He winked at Aziraphale, feeling inordinately pleased when the angel blushed. _That_ was more like it. 

His smugness was rather short-lived, however, since the next moment Aziraphale opened his mouth and said, of all things, “What are you waiting for, then?” and Crowley got so hard so fast he actually felt a bit dizzy. He made a split second decision and in another heartbeat he and Aziraphale were back at the bookshop. The sign on the door was still turned to ‘closed’ and the lights were off, but Crowley could still feel Aziraphale’s eyes on him. 

Crowley crowded the angel up against the nearest wall, a small thrill going through him when he saw Aziraphale’s eyes flicker to his mouth before making eye contact again. 

“I don’t think you really know what you’re asking, angel,” Crowley murmured after a moment. Their faces were so close together that, completely by chance, his lips just so happened to brush against Aziraphale’s ever so lightly as he spoke. 

Aziraphale’s eyes slid briefly shut at the contact, his body automatically leaning in for _more_ until there wasn’t so much an inch of space between any part of them. Crowley felt like his bones were slowly melting—and then Aziraphale _kissed_ him, and he swore his brain short-circuited altogether. 

It was quite a kiss—although, considering it had 6000 years of pent-up desire behind it, how could it not be? It was all passion and fire and intense longing—his or Aziraphale’s, Crowley was no longer sure—and at some point Aziraphale’s hands had made their way into Crowley’s hair and were now tugging gently, making Crowley groan into his mouth. 

Aziraphale nipped at Crowley’s lower lip before pulling back just enough to be able to look Crowley in the eyes once more. “Then show me,” he said, his hands tightening in Crowley’s hair. 

It took Crowley a few seconds to catch up—to be expected, really, considering the circumstances—but once he did, he felt a fairly wicked smile spread across his face. 

“With pleasure, angel,” he purred, just before moving in again to start his attack. 


End file.
